The Fluffy Assassin Part 3 [By Bread]
That job with the dad ended up being pretty good for Weston. Word spread before long and he was getting more specific work as word spread. Didn’t increase how often he got work, but seemed to help it stay consistent. As much as people might appreciate a job well done, not everyone has a need for his services, or wants to pay to get rid of something like the neighbor’s fluffy is annoying.
Most of his jobs were that though. Fluffy is obnoxious, getting out, stupid owners not stopping them. Eating their flowers, hurting their own fluffies, being a disturbance, shitting on their stuff. Nothing was too exciting, but sometimes, jobs came around that were more interesting.
When this job came in, he wasn’t sure what to make of it. He was used to eliminating fluffies because they were causing problems. This one was…odd.
A client contacted him and said he had a fluffy he needed taken care of, but that it might not be just one fluffy. Considering his work thus far, Weston thought, ‘okay, so a fluffy family. Or a special friend, or a sibling or something too.’ But no, it wasn’t that. It took a bit of the woman making sure he was up to the task before she finally shared the details.
“[Alright so…my problem is that my neighbor is an abuser.]”
“[Of fluffies?]”
“[Yeah, of fluffies.]”
“[Perfectly legal stuff. And I don’t do people, I take care of fluffies. Not even another pet. Fluffies only.]” He’d had to make that clear a few times. One too many, ‘Hey man, can you take care of my girlfriend’s cat? The fucker hates me’ or other shit like it, and now he constantly had to make that clear. Weston liked animals. Fluffies were just…different. Like rats. He didn’t mind a pet rat but the moment they were chewing up your house they were not getting sympathy from him.
“[No! No, nothing like that!]” “[I just…need you to help me get him to stop.]”
“[Stop…abusing fluffies?]”
“[Yeah!]”
“[Still not something I offer…]”
“[No. Look. Listen, I’ve got this idea. Nothing else I can do. The cops don’t do more than occasionally give him a little ticket for noise disturbances, and the fluffy screams are constantly scaring my kids. I need it to stop for my sanity. Scared kids are so fucking hard to get back to bed.]”
Weston didn’t have any strong opinions one way or the other on fluffy abusers. Sure, he got some satisfaction dealing with shitty ones, like Berry the other week, but he didn’t really see the appeal of just taking some fluffy and torturing it. Same time…it wasn’t a real animal. It was some fucked up lab thing. He didn’t really care much. But he could see how someone abusing the things next door could be a real pain. The fucking things could scream like hell.
“[I’m listening but I’m not sold on the offer so far.]”
She proceeded to sell him on the idea. It was a dubious sell, and he wasn’t sure it would actually do what she wanted, but it was something he was mostly comfortable doing. So here he was the next day, a bunch of stuff all set and ready for the oddest job he’d been put onto thus far.
A selection of tools on hand, and his now trusty Fluffy Gun holstered at his hip (his BB-Gun this had all started with) he made his way out of his car the moment he saw the target abuser’s car leave view as he went to work, and made his way to the home. Then, he got to the back gate, and pulled out his new lockpick set to get to work.
He needed to be a ghost, and not damage any more property than necessary, or he could have biggest consequences than killing someone’s fluffy. For that reason, he didn’t want to go cutting the lock to the gate. Jumping over the fence was technically an option, but he wasn’t that athletic so that wasn’t going to happen. The idea of using the neighbor client’s ladder had come up, but then that might link this to the client, something that didn’t sit right.
Weston knew how to pick locks you ask? No. He watched some video tutorials and bought a decent pick set. He wouldn’t be breaking into any doors anytime soon, but he could get through a padlock with some effort. A lot of them were surprisingly unsecure to even a novice lockpicker according to the internet, and he worked away at it to see if that was true.
Somehow, the internet didn’t lie to him. He had the padlock off within five minutes, and honestly he could’ve done it sooner if not for how new at this he was. He removed it, placed it carefully on the ground to return it once he was done, and slipped inside the fenced in yard.
Weston was now committing a more serious crime. A few really. He…didn’t know how to feel about that, but he was there to kill a fluffy, which was an even more unbelievable part to all of this. So, he tried not to worry about it.
The yard was…fucking awful actually. The guy had a pool, so that was something, but otherwise the whole place was just dirt and overgrown grass, or concrete to not have to deal with either. No plants, no trees, no nothing. The guy clearly didn’t think much of bringing nature into his living space. He was so busy looking over the travesty of a yard, he nearly missed the target.
A fluffy lay sprawled out, whining on an inflatable floating chair in the middle of the pool. Weston moved closer, and saw it was kept dead center of the pool by strings tied on four sides to different anchors around the pool, making sure no lucky gust of wind would save the fluffy from his watery prison.
The client had said the fluffies often shouted and called for help in the day, but the real issue was at night. Apparently the abuser had more freetime in the dead of night, and didn’t care who heard him enjoying himself. But this was one of the ways he kept the torture going during the day.
He moved closer, but the fluffy just kept whining, his butt to Weston as he seemed to be doing his best to not move. The guy was in rough shape. No tail, shaved patchily, shivering from the occasional wind blowing.
When Weston got close to the pool, he could hear the fluffy talking amidst his whines.
“W-wawa is…bad fo fwuffy…Daddeh…nu mean…weave Jaw-Jaw hewe…” he hu-hued to himself. “…why daddeh su meanies…j-jus wan huggies and wuv…nu mean be bad fwuffy…why stupih tummeh haf make bad poopies? Stupih tummeh…make daddeh su maddies…”
That was when he realized the fluffy wasn’t sprawled out, he didn’t have much of a choice. He had no back legs at all, just scabbed over areas they should be. Yet, not fully pillowed. The guy was probably saving that. Weston had heard when all the legs were gone, it wasn’t hard for a Fluffy to just shut down. And no doubt that wouldn’t be very fun to abuse.
“Den wose gammie to ge back weggies…miss weggies…huuu…”
Through listening to all the whining, Weston was considering his options. His direction was just to end the fluffy. Nothing specific, just no more fluffy. His idea he was set on for now was just some BB’s to the head, nice fast execution. And well…he did feel bad for the thing. Maybe it had been a little shit at some point, but with abusers you never knew. It could’ve been just adopted hoping for a nice home.
All that in mind, he walked around the pool until the fluffy could see him. “Hey there little guy,” he greeted the…ugly little thing, a small, pitying smile on his face.
The little guy let out a gasp, “H-hewwo! Pwease! Hewp Jaw-Jaw! Nu wan faww in wawa!”
Even now the little guy had hope a human would help him. Weston didn’t know if that was sad, or stupid.
“Water is bad for fluffies, huh?”
“Ye! Wawa is make fwuffy foweba sweepies! Daddeh say Jaw-Jaw nu can swimmies wifout weggies! Daddeh take weggies…”
“That’s no good…” Weston got down on a knee and started figuring out how to do this. “I can help you. I’ll take you away from your meanie daddy, how does that sound?”
The fluffy gasped, then started to cry as he shouted, “Pwease! Pwease be nu daddeh! Daddeh is meanie daddeh. Jaw-Jaw nu mean be bad fwuffy! Be gud fwuffy! Be bestest fwuffy fo new daddeh! Nu askies fo sketties ow toysies ow-” about then he started ignoring the pleading. He wanted to give the little guy hope before he died. He’d never know it was a lie before he was gone.
The little guy really was ugly now. A pale green with a matted grey mane all torn up and shaved randomly, mostly a bald thing now. And only now did he see the fluffy wasn’t an earthie, but a unicorn, or used to be. His horn was barely there, cracked and broken. He hated to admit it… but killing something ugly would be easier than something he found cute. That was just how it was.
He worked out a way to do this. The strings were just tied into loops that went around the anchors, set up so it could be redone easily day after day. So he walked over, undid one, then another, and finally went around and started to pull the string behind the fluffy to get him nice and close. The fluffy was scared at first, but then relieved when he glanced back at saw he was being pulled to the safety of land.
“Fankyu nice mistah! Yu is nicest bestest new daddeh! Wawa bad fo fwuffies. Nu wike be on big wawa!” the fluffy babbled, and Weston, having originally wanted to reach out to pet the thing and give it some calm before putting it down…didn’t. It was pretty gross looking and he didn’t think he’d want that.
Then he realized what the little guy had been saying, “Wait…what was your name?”
“Meanie daddeh caww fwuffy Jaw-Jaw!”
“…Jar-Jar?”
“Yus! Am Jaw-Jaw!”
Damn, the man really was cruel.
He shook his head and took out his Fluffy Gun, and started with a spiel he gave to nicer fluffies, “Close your eyes while I help you, and think about how nice your new housie is going to be. It’s warm, and has lots of toys and…sketties…” he trailed off.
The fluffy was immediately ecstatic and obeyed, if only in fear his ‘new daddeh’ would change his mind if he didn’t listen to every instruction.
However, it was in this moment that Weston realized he’d been looking at the situation all wrong. His original plan would have worked, sure, but it would’ve been so…obvious! He was a professional, he had to think deeper than put a BB in the fluffies brain when it came to plans! (He made up the profession, he got to say he was a professional in his book)
“Just…stay right there. Have to fix something or you might fall in the water…” he let go of the string, and grabbed the two now loose in the water he’d undone. Carefully he dragged one back into position, then the other, until the fluffy was right back where he’d started in the center of the pool.
Why make it obvious, when he could make it look like an accident? With the inflated chair as his only lifeline, that was all that stood in the way. Those things got holes in them and slowly deflated all the time. The scene was set for him and he’d nearly ruined it because he lacked imagination! What an amateur move.
He looked at the fluffy, considered how he had just given him all the hope in the world planning to kill him soundly and fast, and now…now that wasn’t what was going to happen. Wasn’t what could happen if he wanted to do this right. There the fluffy was, big excited smile with his eyes closed, and he was holding a BB-gun pointed at a corner of the chair.
Without letting himself linger on it, he fired a metal BB into the chair, and immediately could hear the slow hiss of air as it began to escape. The fluffy’s eyes shot open at the sudden noise, and looked at him in confusion. “Why you am oba dewe new daddeh?”
“…” he wasn’t sure what to say. If he’d thought a little faster he could’ve done this without talking to the fluffy. This was his mistake.
The chair wasn’t exactly high quality, and within moments the water started to hit Jar-Jar, pooling in the crevice his weight created in the deflating chair. This early into the summer it would probably still be cold.
“Nu! Hewp! Hewp! Wawa bad fo fwuffies! Chaiw sinkies!”
“Sorry. I don’t really like fluffies that much.” He decided to just be honest. He wasn’t even sure the fluffy heard him over his scrambling to keep from sinking and shouting for help.
The chair did have a separately inflated pillow part of the chair, something that wasn’t deflating, and the fluffy had the sense to grab at that with his front hooves and hold on. “Pwease! Nu wan be in wawa! Nu hab weggies fo swimmies! Nu wan gu foweba sweepies!” He shouted desperately.
He wanted to leave, wanting to not watch, but he was paid to do a job. He had to make sure the fluffy really bit it this way and that his creativity hadn’t just been a needless increase in cruelty. He hated to think how the fluffies owner may even get a kick out of knowing his fluffy had gotten dreams of a nice home and owner only to be betrayed immediately after being given back hope.
The chair deflated to the point of uselessness, and while the pillow part had been enough to help him last while the chair still had some air, it finally reached a point where it was all that was left. And as soon as that was true, fluffy hooves found no purchase, no way to hold on, as the fluffy slipped off the pillow and into the water.
Splashing desperately with his only legs, he barely kept his face above water, “Hewp! Hewp! Nu-nu wan…nu…” he started swallowing water, managed a burst of energy and cried, “Hewp new daddeh!” his eyes meeting Weston’s.
Weston turned his back and started to head for the gate he came in.
His last hope dashed, his burst of energy, his spark of hope, extinguished like a blown out candle. And he stopped even splashing to try and keep afloat. Heartbroken, and drowning in cold water that burned his eyes and filled his lungs. The fluffy died knowing hope, and thinking he must have been a bad fluffy.
Weston left the way he came once he didn’t see the fluffy come back up after two minutes. He locked the gate behind himself like he’d never been there, after making sure he had everything, and then left in his car, letting the client know the job was done. He felt a bit bad having teased the fluffy only to make his death worse than it would’ve been, but in the end he figured, it had let him do his job better than ever before. It took a right proper hitman to make it look like an accident after all.
He was paid the first agreed upon installment that night. This job would be an odd one.
The full details were, the client wanted to make her neighbor suffer trying to do the one thing that bothered her daily life, his abusing fluffies. She, like himself, didn’t care about fluffies or anything. She definitely didn’t have any as pets herself, but the disturbances were just too much.
The plan was, whenever she started getting disturbed again by her neighbor’s inevitable new fluffy plaything, she’d contact him and he’d take care of it. Eventually, he’d either get the message, or stop getting new fluffies because he kept being denied his fun in the middle of their prolonged suffering. If nothing else, it was a way to get back at a bad neighbor.
Weston…wasn’t convinced this plan would work for her goal, but he didn’t feel bad putting fluffies out of their misery to punish the owner. And he wasn’t one to turn down a good thing when he saw it. So, dedicated to the client’s cause he would be. And within a few days, he didn’t even think about Jar-Jar and his accidental cruelty.
An increase in business after this job saw to that.
(We’ll see this job come back occasionally as an ongoing thing. I originally thought about breaking this particular job into parts but since I’m going episodic focused on a job each time, it makes sense to just come back to this client (and I also really need to start naming them). But I hope you enjoyed. Weston’s journey is fun to figure out and I’m enjoying writing it, and really appreciate the reception to it I’ve gotten. :D)
(Below is the promised template. Leave it filled out under your comment. If I use your idea, I’ll of course mention you. And, if you want to make the client be more important to a gig than I’ve made them thus far, that’s fine.)
Fluffy Assassin Contract
Client:
Description/Background of Client: (anything you think can be played off or find important for the job)
The Target(s): Detail the fluffies names (if applicable) color schemes, type of fluffy (earthy, Pegasus, etc) any special qualities (Smarty, tuffie, bitch mare syndrome, etc)
The Job:
The Details: (of said job)
Compensation: (I keep money unmentioned cause I don’t want to think about it. But just ballpark it as low, normal rate, extra rate, crazy, or suspicious, that sort of thing)
(Have fun with it, simple, wild, whatever. If I like it, I’ll use it. Probably. Eventually.)